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February 26, 2008

How to Start a Car at Forty Below

I was a little concerned that the first poem I wrote for the CBC Poetry Face-Off wouldn't be acceptable, so I wrote a back-up poem. I just got the "green light" on the first poem, so I'll share the back-up poem now.

The theme for this round of the Face-Off is "Heating Up". I wrote this poem during the cold snap when I was having trouble starting my car.

HOW TO START A CAR AT FORTY BELOWThere once was a time when my car wouldn't start'Cause the cold was below minus forty.I couldn't miss work 'cause my boss is a jerk(His girlfriends all know him as "Shorty".)

My boss is a stickler for being on timeAnd he'd can me for showing up tardy.Neither tempest nor flood nor the loss of my bloodWas acceptable to Mr. Hardy.

I knew what would happen if I showed up lateMr. Hardy would start with the screamingAnd then he would yell 'bout the fires of HellAnd I'd get a mighty good reaming.

I couldn't be late and I couldn't not show'Cause I wanted to get my next paychequeI needed to grow my small pile of dough'Cause I wanted to buy a new tape deck.

Since the car wouldn't start I would give it a boostWith the charger I'd bought for that reasonThe cheap piece of crap, with a snap and a zapShorted out in a mild act of treason.

Now I'd just missed the bus. It was too far to walk.My neighbours all had the same problem.CAA couldn't come and the taxis are dumb,So I didn't have much of an option.

I'd plugged the car in through the long winter nightAnd had racked up the watts on the meter.To get it to start I would have to get smartAnd find some clever method to heat 'er.

I got a hot plate and a George Foreman grillAnd a blowtorch, a camp stove, hair dryer,A fresh hot cross bun and a soldering gun...Almost anything I could acquire.

An iron, some candles (the kind that don't smell)Some hot rocks that I got from my saunaIf it was hot it was grabbed on the spot(If she'd been there I'd have grabbed Madonna.)

I turned them all on and I plugged them all inAnd then put them all under the motor.They glowed rosy red but the engine stayed dead,So I needed to bring in the fire.

It takes certain wisdom (the kind that I have)To heat up an engine with flamesIt takes special care and an ounce of despairWhen you place the flame under the frame.

It can't get too big, but it can't be too smallIf you want it to work out just right.The wood must be dry. You must keep a close eyeTo ensure that your car won't ignite.

I was feeling quite frozen. I looked at my watch.I had only ten minutes remaining."You are quite overdue so I bid you adieu."He would say with his squeaky voice straining.

I would get that car running no matter the costAnd I'd show up to work right on time!I was mad to the core. That's the reason I sworeTo give no ounce of joy to that slime!

With the fire still crackling under the carI turned the key in the ignition...

... Hurrah! The car started! And so I departedIntent on completing my mission.

I sped down the highway - a rough bumpy ride'cause my tires were frozen and lumpy.But, success was in sight and the future was bright!I was no longer edgy and jumpy.

With five minutes left, I was feeling alrightAnd then sensed something quite disconcerting.The car filled with smoke and I started to chokeAnd I saw that my engine was burning.

I rolled down the window and hung my head outAnd the wind froze my tears to my eyeballsBut I couldn't stop 'till I got to the shopThough to most it would seem suicidal.

The flames were enormous and leapt from the hoodThe chill that I'd had soon recededCars swerved from the path of my fiery wrathAnd my progress was made unimpeded.

The fire spread fast and my bucket seats caughtBut I was determined and focussed.I pulled into the lot and jumped out like a shotAnd then watched as my Echo exploded.